The Snow Prince
by Myrielle
Summary: Celibacy isn't everything they made it out to be, as Gelebor and the Dragonborn find out when mutual affection finally gets the better of them.


Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the smutty plot. Please don't sue.

Summary: Celibacy isn't everything they made it out to be, as Gelebor and the Dragonborn find out when mutual affection finally gets the better of them.

_A/N: This is the result of writer's block for "Dragonrend". Utter and complete bodice-ripping type smut with no plot. Additionally, I took some liberties with the rituals and incantations needed to make the Sunhallowed arrows. I like the idea of sweaty, hot Gelebor at the workbench. And I'm not ashamed to admit I wrote this to vicariously accomplish what I wanted to do when I first saw the noble Gelebor, and that was to debauch him completely. Well, not half as ashamed as I should be. Part of this has been posted on the kinkmeme, so I have outed myself, but this version is the much-tidied one and all the rest will be posted here. If my author's note hasn't frightened you off the story, please proceed, suspend your disbelief and hopefully, enjoy._

**The Snow Prince**

**I.**

Mea knew she had it bad. She wished she could have said it was the beauty of the Forgotten Vale that kept her coming back. She wished she could have said it was the unique Sunhallowed Elven Arrows that kept her returning, and which kept up a steady stream of complaints from Odahviing whom she had to admit, she was treating like a packhorse when she made him bear her all the way over the mountains and into the Vale. He had found the place interesting enough but several months of thorough exploration had left him bored. "Dov need constant amusement." The scarlet dragon pinned her with one knowing grey eye. "Do what you have to do with the elf and move on."

If it had been possible, Mea would have melted into the ground and disappeared. The Dragonborn of legend, slayer of Alduin and Harkon, hero of the Imperials and occasional hunter of Thalmor, being told she was simply horny and had to get it out of her system. By a dragon no less. It was utterly humiliating. And utterly true, unfortunately. Thank the gods, both Aedric and Daedric, that Gelebor had happened to be in the depths of Darkfall cave and not on the balcony to hear that embarrassing statement.

Still, it might have been interesting to see if he would have blushed. The sound of steady hammering brought Mea back to the present, where she waited, one hip leaning against the intricate stone railings of the balcony, the cool air fanning out her long dark hair, as dark as the Guildmaster's armour that she wore. Gelebor had liked it, had noticed at once the change in her gear. He also noticed little things, like the way she wore her hair, the books she read when she came to spend time in the Vale and made camp at night with him on the great balcony where they would stargaze and exchange stories about their pasts. She had soon run out of tales, and he had barely begun, but he never made her feel like a naïve child; he was always genuinely interested. And unfailingly respectful, Mea sighed as she watched his lean muscles flex under the sunlight as he hammered at the Elven arrows she had brought. Lately, she had found herself buying up all the Elven arrows she could get her hands on. After all, even the Dragonborn needed a legitimate excuse for coming by so often, and increasingly so in the past two months. The truth was, things were a little quiet on the Skyrim front. The war had been won, General Tullius was secretly and steadily fortifying the army and recruiting men because he didn't trust the Aldmeri Dominion anymore than she did, and in the meantime, the Emperor pretended to be weak and submissive before the Thalmor. War might be coming, but it was a long way off. At least she reckoned it was. Alduin had been killed, Harkon was now a steaming red pile of ash and Serana, surprisingly, had settled in nicely with the Dawnguard. And all that meant that Mea, despite the occasional errand, had time on her hands.

And so she had decided to spend it by gazing at the one male in Skyrim who made her heart beat faster and turned her honeyed thief's tongue to lead. 'Gods, he is handsome,' she thought dreamily, watching the silver threads in his pale gold hair gleam, flickering like lightning over a bright summer sky. The fine and unusual bone structure in his face did not repel her; Mea had dreams of running her tongue and fingers over them and wondering how the ancient Elf would respond to such ministrations. And then there was his beautiful body. The Nord gulped and swallowed. Once, she had arrived to find him missing from the balcony; a quick Shout had located him down by the river and she had laughed gleefully before another Shout turned her ethereal and she had literally dropped in on him. Gelebor had been horrified and Mea had barely gotten to her feet when he had rushed to her side and attempted to hold her. "I'm alright," she started to say, her translucent form hardening to flesh and blood as she grasped his hand. That was when both of them realised that he was naked. Apparently, she had rudely interrupted his bath. That had been the one time she had seen him turn pink beneath his white skin. Her own face had felt so hot that it was probably redder than Masser. Still, they had remained locked in embrace until Gelebor had muttered something unintelligible to her ears and backed away from her as though she had been some dangerous creature. He'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon and she had been about to take her miserable leave when he finally appeared.

"Do not apologise," he smiled at her, but it lacked his usual sweetness. "The truth is, Mea, women—the opposite gender, in general—are forbidden to me. I took an oath as a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El, and all that I am is devoted to him. Matters of the heart are forbidden me."

Mea had blinked as her mind worked furiously to process that explosive nugget of information. "You mean you've never been with...anyone?"

He'd flushed but to his credit, Gelebor seemed largely unbothered. "If you are asking if I am a virgin," he said pointedly, and Mea had had the good grace to blush then, "yes. I have never partaken of the joys of the flesh, and so the path has always been an easy one to walk." He'd murmured something under his breath then, his eyes on her before dropping away to the bubbling pot of stew that hung over their small fire. Once, Gelebor had allowed Mea to cook. He never made that mistake ever again.

Maybe that was why she wanted him so, apart from the fact that he was more refined, more cultured, more gentle than any man she had ever known and as fierce a warrior as any of those in the Companions. Falmer occasionally stalked the Vale and Gelebor, in spite of his compassion for what had once been his fellow elves, had effectively slain the four that had ambushed them. She had hardly had to do anything; he moved so fast, magic flashed from his fingertips and the Elven mace he bore had almost torn apart the Falmer closest to her. Dragons loved claiming territory and here was a man who had never known a woman's touch. And Mea knew a thing or two about satisfying men, and her own draconian appetite for sex. She tried to keep to a partner or two at a time, but when her season came upon her, it was hard not to look at the first appealing man who appeared in her line of sight and not fantasise about jumping his bones until the poor fellow could hardly move. She'd actually made Brynjolf sleep well into the afternoon of the next day and for weeks after, the poor man's reputation was in tatters. Thankfully, they had always been more friends than lovers and coupled with his easygoing nature, they soon made up.

But she'd not had a lover for almost four months now, not since her growing attraction to Gelebor. And the celibacy putting her on edge. She'd become a lot jumpier; distant sounds at night that she wouldn't ordinarily have heard woke her and in order to even get any sleep, Mea felt compelled to satisfy herself. Naturally, it was a certain Snow Elf that featured in all her fantasies and dreams. In battle, she was merciless, almost brutal on exceptionally bad days. And still she could not bring herself to take a lover. Celibacy, Mea realised, was not for her. If she had to live like Gelebor, she would eventually end up as crazy as Vyrthur had been.

She had been here for several hours now, and already she had imagined taking Gelebor in ways that would have done a Dibellan priestess proud. 'But no matter what Senna says, I am not trying the Daedric boots and a trout,' Mea thought stubbornly. The thought was enough to horrify her, let alone the innocent Knight-Paladin. But she had to acknowledge that she was becoming desperate, increasingly so. 'Enough to ignore the fact that he's taken vows.' What kind of friend was she?

'A bad one,' she surmised glumly, watching as Gelebor put down his tools and lifted the arrows in both hands. A golden glow spread from his palms and began to suffuse the rich yellow metal. 'A very bad and ungrateful one.'

* * *

If he had any sense, he would find a way to tell Mea that she should never return. Gelebor brought the hammer down a bit too hard on the arrow but thank Auri-El, no damage was done. Furtively, and feeling rather foolish as he did, he stole a look at the Nord woman who had come to be both bane and blessing at this stage of his long life.

Mea Windrime, who had quite cheerfully told him that she was the scion of an infamous pirate and had been descended from a long line of sea-raiders until one black sheep had decided to make a decent living as a merchant trader, who smiled so easily as though she had not borne the weight of an Elder Scroll prophecy on her shoulders. Mea of the black hair and meadow green eyes, whose beauty reminded him of the Vale itself. The sun had burnished her skin to a light gold, and there were parts of her that bore long pale scars. "Those were the days before I went to the College at Winterhold to learn some basic magic. Colette says I'm proof that anyone can learn spells." Gelebor could see that the remark had been made with good humour; Mea's face had not given away any hurt and her eyes had shone fondly whenever she spoke of the woman. That didn't stop Gelebor from feeling a mite upset that someone had said something disparaging about her. Worse, he had felt the unthinkable urge to press his mouth against her scars. That had been the moment when he had been forced to admit to himself that Mea Windrime, pirate's offspring that she was, had stolen her way into his heart and all that remained of his once peaceful life was but flotsam in her wake.

His long days in solitude had taken a toll on him that he hadn't realised until she had started visiting, first occasionally, and then more regularly. He had been calm and stoic in the face of Vyrthur's death—mostly because Mea had looked so devastated and apologetic when she had only been defending her life and that of her companion's—when the truth was that it had deeply shaken him. In spite of his firm belief that out there, there had to be other Snow Elves, at times the days dragged on and the nights were cold and it was hard to feel anything else but alone. And so he had started looking forward to Mea's visits, to looking at the maps she brought, the books and recipes she stashed in her oversized pack that seemed to be perpetually bursting at the seams. "If you cannot leave the Chantry, then I shall bring Skyrim to you," she said grandly before unfolding the largest and most beautiful map he had ever seen.

"Where did you find this?" he breathed, touching a hand almost reverentially to the parchment. The script was exquisite, the drawings more so. The colours were breathtaking.

"Being friends with a Moth priest has its advantages. Especially when one gifts him with two Elder Scrolls." She knew what he wanted to ask simply by meeting his gaze. "I kept the Dragon Elder Scroll. After all, I am what I am." Her smile had turned slightly hard then, and she had allowed him to distract her by asking about her recent travels. She was a child of Auri-El himself, the Last Dragonborn. Privately, Gelebor felt that even as Alduin had been the Firstborn, so was Mea the Lastborn. And what person, human, elfkind or otherwise, would dare to love a dragon wrapped in flesh and blood?

"Only one as foolish as I." Gelebor wished he could have beaten his desires out of him, cleansed himself in some forge or fire or meditation. But the truth was, he hungered for companionship and in spite of her incredibly short years, Mea had a wisdom that came from being touched by both Aedric and Daedric forces. She made him laugh with her humour that bordered on the irreverent, and she genuinely cared. At first he told himself it was guilt; her way of doing penance for depriving him of his brother and making him the last of his kind. Then, when it became clear that a friendship was forming, he convinced himself that it was strictly platonic. Never mind the biting jealousy he felt whenever she visited and he could smell another's scent, however strongly masked by the scent of soap, on her skin and hair. Snow Elves possessed a remarkably developed sense of smell and Gelebor had learnt how much of a burden it could be, especially when Mea slept less than several feet from him and he had to toss and turn restlessly, his body burning with a desire he refused to yield to. Mornings were the worst, when he would wake to find his seed spilled on his smalls, his heart thundering from a release he had not willed. Or he would be so painfully hard that the slightest movement, the lightest brush of his cock against the soft cloth of his smalls would bring on his release and he would push a hand over his mouth to stifle any sound that escaped as his hips arched and thrust fruitlessly beneath his blanket. It always left him racked with shame and guilt, and a deep relief that Mea had slept through it all.

He knew about dragons, he knew what they were like. He knew they liked conquest, they grew bored of routine and always looked for new lands, new things to collect. Sometimes he feared Mea simply looked at him as another new amusement to pass her time with. He had asked Mea to bring him books about dragon lore and even Dragonborns. "I wish to know more about you," he replied simply when she asked him why on earth he would want to read those materials.

"I'm more than a legend in words and pages, Gelebor," she said, her dancing green eyes darkening for once. "And I am more than a race."

"As am I. But we, all of us, bear traces of our kind in the blood that flows in these veins." Her gaze had fallen to his arms, where the faint tracery of blue and green veins ran from his forearms to his shoulders, disappearing beneath his armour. "The Betrayed are an angry, twisted vengeful race and that has much to do with the Dwemer. But even before that, Snow Elves enjoyed the taste of violence far too much. We bore grudges and nursed vengeance that would have served our race far better to have put aside. And if one were to draw on an example much closer to home, are we not like our mothers and fathers, in some ways?"

He knew it would lighten her mood; Mea loved her parents and continued to mourn their loss on the first day of the Evening Star. "Well, Talos knows I inherited my cooking disability from my mother and my thieving tendencies from...well, there are so many to choose from in the family tree. So do I seem more of a dragon or human to you?"

"You are what you have always been. An answer from Auri-El and a friend always, whether it is my hour of need or not."

"Very nicely done Gelebor. I doubt Vingalmo from the Bards College could have managed to sweet-talk himself out of that one better than you did."

He touched her hand then, and Mea had jumped visibly. It was the first time he had ever touched her; the first of many lines he would cross. How she could not hear his heart beating furiously against the walls of his breast, he did not know. "I mean all of it, Mea."

Her fingers curled around his. "I know. Thank you." He had almost kissed her then; it had taken all his willpower to draw back and break the spell. Two weeks later, Mea would throw herself off a cliff and almost end his life from the sheer horror he felt as he watched her translucent form plummet from an impossible height to the ground. His hands had passed through her when he had attempted to grab her, to check for shattered bones. Only when she grasped him did her body materialise. "It's a Thu'um. I'm alright," she said blithely, and he had felt like shaking her until her teeth rattled. After that, he wanted to toss her on the ground, tear off her leather armour and the pants beneath, and push himself so far inside her that the valley would echo with her cries. For a moment, he had actually been about to. Then he remembered who he was, and who she was, and his vow to the god that had given her life. And he had practically run away, leaving Mea behind and wishing that he could have done the same to the desire that was eating him alive. It had taken a very long swim in a semi-frozen river that left his bones aching with cold before he managed to regain his senses.

That had been a month before and there had been no incidents since then. If one did not count the furtive glances, the anxiety he felt each time he saw her, the indescribable bliss he felt when he realised no one else's scent marked hers, the awful void her absences left, how extraordinarily comforting something as simple as having her nearby felt. She had changed him irrevocably. Gelebor lifted the arrows, murmured a spell so ancient that tomes of it no longer existed, and felt the power of the sun surround him, the light eternal quickening as it melded with the metal, gifting it with a power greater than any he wielded. Then, it was done.

"Here are the last of the arrows," he announced, placing them carefully in the Elven quiver. He turned around and the smile fell from his face. "Mea?"

She had taken out a small pile of books and some parchments that had been lovingly bound with what looked like silver thread. "I—I don't think I can stay, Gelebor. But I've brought the books you asked for and some that Urag recommended. He suspects I've been borrowing and buying these for someone else; apparently he's judged me lacking in the brains needed to understand such. Maybe one day I'll bring him, not that Odahviing will ever consent to carry him on his back but maybe in his claws, who knows—"

"Mea, stop." He approached her and she actually backed several shaky steps away. "Have I done something wrong? Offended you in some way?"

"No! Absolutely not. It's just that I've suddenly remembered I promised to run an errand and it really can't wait." She practically snatched the quiver from his hands and slung it on in one fluid motion. "I'll just use the Wayshrine portal down to Darkfall cave. There's no way Odahviing will make two trips here in one day."

"I can escort you." The panic on Mea's face stilled the rest of his words.

"No! I mean, thank you but I'll be fine." For someone who usually stood and moved with easy grace, Mea was as fidgety as a young colt tethered to a stake in the middle of vast fields. "Most of the passageways have been cleared and I am the Dragonborn after all. I can take care of myself."

"That's not why I'm offering. I thought..."

"Just let me go, Gelebor. Please."

He narrowed his eyes. "I do not think so. Clearly, something is troubling you deeply and if you would only share it with me—"

She darted up the steps as swiftly as the bird whose name she bore in service to Nocturnal. For a moment, Gelebor's mouth dropped open in sheer shock. Then he too sprang into action. She almost gained the portal when he knocked her aside and both of them went tumbling to the floor. Before Mea could scramble to her feet, Gelebor rolled on top of her, pinning her arms hard above her head and when she flailed wildly, he threw a leg over her thighs and held them down.

"Let me up!" she snarled, green eyes wild, her pupils an obsidian black that rivalled his own. "I'll Shout you off...oh gods, get off..."

She was a lot stronger than she looked. It took a considerable amount of his strength to hold the thrashing Dragonborn down. "If there is..." She almost wrestled her hands free and he caught them again. "...assistance I can provide..." This time, he narrowly avoided a knee to his groin... "just ask. It's the..." He escaped another attempt and found himself practically straddling her to keep her down. "...least that I can do."

"Gelebor, this is your last chance," Mea warned as she panted hard beneath him. He tried not to look at the rise and fall of her chest, or the faint sheen of perspiration on her upper lip from their struggles. Each time she arched up against him, he had to bite the inside of his cheek so that the pain would keep arousal at bay. So far, that move was failing miserably.

"I cannot let you go like this. I must know—"

Fury mottled her face and for a second, he almost drew back. "Then know this. I need to leave because like other dragons, I am in season and I need to seek out a mate that I can fuck senseless until it passes. I've not touched anyone for the past few months because of you and unless you let me go, I'll take you on the floor of the temple balcony, Akatosh himself as my witness."

Gelebor stayed where he was, stunned by everything he had heard. She had not been with anyone else because of him. He didn't want that to change. He wanted her so badly. He could not break his vows.

"_FUS!_"

And suddenly, the decision was not his anymore. A tremendous force like nothing he had ever felt crashed into his body; it felt like being pummelled by gigantic invisible fists. He couldn't breathe as the air was driven from his lungs and he could do nothing to arrest his fall as he was sent flying out from the Wayshrine before collapsing ungracefully onto the balcony floor.

Warmth suffused him; he recognised the familiar tingle of the healing spell that flowed through his body, washing away the bruises and pain. For a moment, he watched Mea as she hovered over him, felt the weight of her body on his as she straddled him, black hair lit to a fiery deep red by the bright sun above. Then, she cupped his face with both hands and kissed him so hard that it hurt until he parted his lips and groaned with shock and pleasure as her tongue swept in and touched his. His hands were on her shoulders, fingers digging in but she resisted his paltry efforts to push her off, slanting her mouth over his again and again while her hips ground down on his.

'Too much, too fast.' Gelebor tore his mouth away, panting harshly as though he had just run for miles but Mea simply transferred her lips to his neck, sucking and nipping a fiery trail down his skin and before he knew it, he was turning to the side, arching his neck to give her more access. "Mea, wait." He reached for her again, grasping her arms. Only to find that his Mea was an exceptionally talented multi-tasker. Before he knew it, she had unbuckled his cuirass and torn it off him, flinging it to the side. With one hard tug, she ripped the soft under tunic he wore and Gelebor cried out when her lips fastened over his nipple.

He squirmed, he arched, he sunk his hands into her thick dark hair as she sucked, her long fingers scoring his flesh before teasing his other nipple, rubbing circles around the darkened pink flesh before she pinched the sensitive tip. He realised he was moaning softly but could do nothing to stop it, especially when her hot wet mouth moved further down, licking a moist trail down the flat planes of his belly even as his muscles flexed and jerked with each teasing nip she made. "Oh Mea..." Oh Auri-El forgive him but she felt so good...better than a dream, than the dreams that had tormented his sleeping hours.

Cool air touched the hot skin of his body and Gelebor squeezed his eyes shut as Mea kissed the bones of his hips, sliding herself between his spread thighs, her hands tugging and pulling, pushing down both armour and the breeches he wore beneath. He cried out as he felt her hands cup his buttocks, muscles pulled taut as he arched up at her touch, his hands locked over her wrists.

Then he screamed, back curved like a bow, head pressed so hard against the stone that it hurt but none of it mattered as he felt Mea's mouth cover the hot rigid flesh of his cock. He tore his hands from hers, clawed instead at the ground with a force that he knew might have broken her bones and looked down to see Mea haul herself further up his body, using her elbows to hold down his thighs. The sight of his flesh sliding in and out from her mouth was too much and Gelebor felt pleasure spear his spine, spread like a fiery bolt through the molten pool gathering between his legs. "Mea, stop. I cannot...I can't..." he pleaded raggedly. Her tongue flickered, danced over the sensitive groove at the crown of his cock, and he fell back, writhing, his hands curled into fists as he tried to hold back. "Mea..." Her fingers cupped the heavy sac beneath his cock. She squeezed gently as she ran her tongue firmly over the broad tip of his swollen head, tracing the seam once more.

The darkness behind his lids turned to blinding light. It was her name he shouted as he thrust his hips up, awash in an unspeakable flood of pleasure so great that he thought he might die from it. It tore him apart as he ground frantically against her mouth that still sucked and licked his member as it throbbed unbearably with each hot fiery spurt that dragged his spine off the ground and jerked him forward in a tight shuddering curl that seemed to last forever.

He had no memory of lying back down. Indeed, Gelebor realised that he might have passed out for a moment or two because when he regained consciousness, Mia had doffed her armour and clothes, and was wonderfully, gloriously naked in his arms. "You are going to kill me," he whispered hoarsely as he cupped her face and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue and not minding it half as much as he ought to have. Tentatively, he slid his large hands down her back, marvelling at the smoothness of her skin, the heat of her flesh beneath his palms, the feel of her breasts pressed intimately against him, the way her legs twined with his. He had never been so close to another being, not like this.

"I'm going to ruin you," she murmured, and for a brief second, the wild look in her eyes dimmed and she touched her lips to his forehead, kissed the tip of his nose before pressing her mouth tenderly against his, an unspoken apology for his vows that both of them would break. "You're going to be mine." The bright flare returned to her green eyes as she drew her lips back against white teeth in a smile as beautiful as the clear light and cool winds that surrounded them. Just looking at her made his soul ache. Auri-El help him, he loved a dragon and he would pay any price to have her. Even if it was for this brief hour in the sun.

"But before I do any of that," she grinned and he touched the dimple that appeared in her left cheek, "let's move to the pallet. Fur is a lot more comfortable than stone, trust me—" Abruptly, she stopped and apprehension flashed over her face.

Gelebor doubted there was any male alive, whether past or present, who could possibly not mind any reference to his lover's ex-lovers. But it was hardly his place to judge and he was not young or stupid enough to let something like that get in the way of the wonderful present. "I'll take your word for it." He dropped a brief kiss on her lips but when he made to stand up, Mia swiftly wrapped her legs around his waist. Gelebor bit his lip to hold his silence when he felt the curls and heat of her sex rub against his half-erect cock. It was the shortest and longest walk ever, made far more difficult because to support Mea, he had to cradle her shapely bottom with his hands while she arched and rubbed softly against him, her thief's quick hands stroking the ridges of his collar bones, the arch of his shoulder blades. He almost dropped her when she reached down between them, nails scraping softly along the flesh of his belly before she wrapped her hand around his quickly hardening length and gave a firm, deep stroke. Gelebor moaned then, practically dropped to his knees of the fur pallet and blanketed her with his tall, lean form.

He kissed her eyes, her nose, filled his hands with her wonderfully thick hair. He laughed softly as he kissed her delicious mouth over and over again, Mea's soft touch feathering over his back, igniting him the way the wind did a flame just before it became a sea of fire. "Mea mine," Gelebor murmured, then groaned as her hand found him again and he gulped, struggled to breathe as she slid her hand up and down his cock, pushing and pulling the taut skin over hot hard flesh. She quickened her pace and the Snow Elf was half-conscious of the fact that his hips were moving with her, that he had dropped his head into the crook of her neck, that her lips and tongue was tracing the incredibly sensitive curves of his ear and that he was going to climax again, and rather quickly if she did not stop.

Mea seemed to read his mind though, because much to his disappointment, she stopped. He wondered how he looked to her, whether his cheeks were as flushed as hers, whether what he felt in his heart had written itself in the lineaments of his face. Her expression was what he would describe as tender, but the fire in her eyes could be nothing but raw desire. "Touch me, Gelebor."

He blinked, suddenly and strangely hesitant. Here was something he knew nothing of, despite thousands of years of living. He was bound to disappoint. "I want you." Her voice was just above a whisper as she slipped a hand from his hair and brought it to rest over his heart. "Now."

Perhaps if he did to her what she had done to him... Slowly, he bent to kiss her neck, stroking his tongue lightly over her skin, grazing its softness with his teeth and was well rewarded with a deep sigh of satisfaction from Mea. He mapped a path down to her breast and then, giving in to an overwhelming urge, he cupped it and squeezed lightly, running a thumb over the hard peak of her nipple. Mea sucked in a sharp breath, shifted restlessly beneath him and Gelebor smiled inwardly. Then he took her in his mouth and flicked his tongue over the sensitised tip, the way she had done to him, only faster and lighter. He covered her other breast with his large hand, pressing more insistently when he realised the sensation of her nipple against his bare palm ignited the nerves beneath his skin and sent a fiery thrill straight to his groin. Mea cried out when he started to suckle her, pulling and tugging with firm gentleness as she arched higher, offering her breasts to him. Leaning most of his weight on one elbow, he let his other hand explore her body, the beautiful ripple of her ribcage, the flex of lean muscle as she writhed slowly for him, the soft curves made for a lover's touch, the way her pulsing blood beat beneath his fingertips. Instinct made him hook his fingers around the back of her knee, drawing it up against his side and he found himself seated between her spread thighs.

Nuzzling her breasts one final time, he swiftly moved himself down her body, breathing in deeply at the heated slide of naked skin on skin. "Gelebor...?" Mea lifted her head and he kept his hungry gaze on her as he bent his head and bit the inside of her soft thigh. Then he blew on her sex before licking hard through the dark curls that shielded her from him.

"Oh Tal—_ahhh_..." Mea's harsh oath broke off in a high-pitched gasp. Blindly, she reached for Gelebor, threading her hands into the thick silver-gold of his hair as his tongue probed at her folds before pushing in, slicking a hot, wet, intimate path through them. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she squeezed them shut, realising she was lying flat on her back once more. She'd drawn her thighs up over his shoulders, clamped them tightly against his head as his clever tongue drew a riot of sensation in her body. 'No experience,' she thought, barely hearing herself over the harsh panting that she realised was coming from her. 'But plenty of clever imagination..._nngh..ah_!' That last part erupted from her throat as a strangled cry when Gelebor stroked the flat of his tongue up and down against the throbbing bud of her clit. Instantly, he went back to lashing it tenderly with his tongue and Mea forgot to be gentle as she locked her grip on his hair and moaned so loudly that she could be heard above the sound of the wind.

She tried to tell him she wanted his fingers in her. But speech was hardly an option when she could barely string a coherent thought together. Instead, she grabbed for the hand that was idly drawing circles on her hip, the same motion that he was performing with his tongue as he teased her clit. She let her thighs fall open, guided his hand to her and with less finesse than she would have liked, pushed his second and third fingers inside her up to the knuckle. For a moment Gelebor froze. "Don't stop," Mea rasped, lifting her hips to feel more of him; the stretch felt good beyond belief, the hot clenching ache within soothed by the sudden fullness. "Move. Please move, Gelebor."

"I don't... How, Mea?"

It was such a touchingly innocent question and seemed all the more absurd given that she was a half-melted mess of wanton lust. Slipping her hand around the nape of his neck, Mea tugged until he moved up and was once more face to face with her, his still fingers buried deep inside her body. "Curl them forward," she instructed softly, "like you're beckoning me to approach." Her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as she felt him try. "Yes, oh yes." She trailed her hands down her body, down to her clit and began to rub slowly. "Now higher...faster...oh yes-s...t-that's it..."

It was hard to concentrate, especially when he was torn between watching Mea as she turned her head from side to side, lashes dark against her pale cheek, lips parted by breathy sighs, or watching her skilful hands rub that sweet spot that made her entire body jerk and writhe when he had used his mouth on it. Her inner muscles were quivering around his fingers as he focused on that spot, slightly ridged and rougher; each touch and stroke of his fingers against it made Mea dig her heels into his back, restlessly drag her legs along the sides of his body. Then he felt it, a fierce contraction that clenched her walls tightly down on his fingers, and then another, and another. She pulsed all around him as he repeatedly drove his fingers into her, her hips thrusting and riding his hand. Against the wet open-mouthed kiss they shared, Mea wailed and Gelebor drank in her moans and cries, devouring her as she climaxed beneath him.


End file.
